


Sun, Moon, and Stars

by thefirstneonphoenix



Category: Nightwing (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: But it's not like I had a plan for it, Dickbabs and Dickory positive but DickJoey is the clear OTP, F/M, Honestly a little bit rambly, I don't know what to tag this with, It's literally just kinda a reflection?, It's not a long read so if you're bored have fun ig, M/M, That and I wanted to add to the Dick/Joey tag because that pairing is Criminally underrated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28230462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefirstneonphoenix/pseuds/thefirstneonphoenix
Summary: Dick Grayson and movement, and how that has impacted his romantic relationships through the years.(I hope I did an ok job at capturing the positives of every relationship, even if none of them were particularly supposed to come out as endgame pairings)
Relationships: Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson/Joseph Wilson, Dick Grayson/Koriand'r
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	Sun, Moon, and Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly I really want to get into writing content for DickJoey but I have no idea how to go about doing that, so I wrote this in hopes that it would open some kind of flood gate in my brain.

Dick remembered meeting Joey with absolute, stunning clarity. The whole world seemed to come to a screeching halt as he stared into those vivid, green eyes. The Titans were still making fun of him for the whole incident, what with the way he had lost all prior bluster upon coming face to face with the man. Dick couldn’t help it, there was something about Joey that just made him… stop. Slow down. Smell the roses, as Alfred would have said.

Dick had always been an active child, a whirlwind of constant movement and excitement, unable to sit still even under threat of dire consequence. It had just been the way of life with the circus. They moved from place to place, and there were always things that needed to be done. Dick may have been a child, but as long as he could walk to carry things from place to place, he could pitch in and do his part. Equipment was constantly in need of being unpacked and repacked or checked over for flaws. The elephants and tigers needed to be tended to. The performers (him included), needed to train for their acts, and costumes needed to be made, fitted, or repaired.

When Dick came to live at Wayne manor, he brought that frenzy of life with him. Bruce began training him in part just to give him something to do. Alfred was always good at giving him busy work, even if he often remarked on the lack of propriety that came with it. Because of this, even though Dick was taken from the circus, the lifestyle that it had imparted him with survived. He trained to perform, and he trained to fight, and he mended clothes, and he cooked and cleaned. When he began running the Titans, little changed again. There was always work to be done, and if there wasn’t any to be found, then Dick created it. Solving new cases, building new connections, learning new skills, and always, always, moving.

The movement was a part of who he was, at his very core. Without it, he didn’t feel like himself. And it wasn’t just some little quirk of his, it impacted every aspect of his life, including, but not limited to, his work, his relationships, and his schooling.

Dick chose to become a cop in part because he wanted something that would give him lots of work. When that didn’t work out, he became a gymnastics instructor and picked up a few self defense classes to teach on top of that. It gave him an excuse to work physical activity into his life without the “Billionaire ski trip” story Bruce had been so fond of. He had tried going to college, at Bruce’s suggestion, but he and classrooms had never meshed well. When he first started classroom schooling in the third grade, he felt that it was some special form of hell, designed especially for him. Eight hours without anything exciting to do, except for at recess, on the off chance the teachers failed to catch him flipping off the play set, that is, was a soul sucking experience. Despite the draining nature of the school system, Dick endured with pride, if only because it made Bruce happy.

Later on though, Dick wasn’t as desperate, nor was he as eager, to make Bruce happy. He had a few qualms about quitting college, but only a few. Ultimately, his desire to track down a group of gun runners took precedence over his last chance at maintaining his grades, and he said a cheerful au revoir to Hudson University.

Barbara had always said he needed to slow down. It’s probably why they weren’t able to work out as a long term couple. Dick loved her, he really did. And Barbara loved him. But ultimately, she deserved more from life, and just “Playing chicken with a boy named Robin,” wasn’t going to cut it. Her own words. They were still good friends, some of the best in fact, and Dick still turned to her before anyone else whenever he needed help or advice, but at the end of the day, they moved at different speeds and, despite a shared work ethic, they vibrated at different frequencies in their daily lives. They dated in high school, and were each other’s prom dates, but neither of them had any interest in marrying their childhood sweetheart, as safe as the option may be. They both valued danger and excitement too much for that, although Dick was sure that down the line they might entertain the thought of reigniting their romance. Maybe. They both had a bit more growing and living to do before that happened though.

Kori was different from Barbara. She didn’t chase after him in the same way that Barbara had, when they were kids playing tag on Gotham rooftops. She matched his pace and his passion stride for stride, every time he went to take a step forward, she was moving forward in unison with him, and of her own accord. That wasn’t to say their relationship was perfect, by no means. There was a frequent culture clash between them, and many of their life philosophies were fundamentally very different. Despite this, they remained together like two of the same type of magnet shoved together by sheer force of will. Yet, like those magnets, the energy between the two of them often built until they were being violently forced apart by each other. Dick loved Kori. He would always love Kori. And Kori had promised to always love him. But they were a grand, sweeping saga of a romance, the kind of thing made for movie screens that offered no realistic conclusions, not for the trials of the real world. They decided to end things amicably, if wistfully, after one to many supervillains got in the way of things. Maybe in another world they would have made it, and maybe then they could have had their movie screen family. But that wasn’t the case in this one, so they would always remain to each other, “The one that got away.”

Joey wasn’t like either of them at all, (Granted, if Dick had to choose a similarity in an effort to identify a type, he would note that they all wore purple, which might be something).

Where Barbara had run after him, and likewise made him run after her, Joey held him as a captivated audience.

Where he and Kori had fed off of each other’s passion and energy, Joey gave him a quiet tranquility.

He often associated Barbara with Gotham’s moon, ever-present and unshifting behind the smog. She bathed him in a pale light that illuminated many different possibilities and pathways that he could take, while simultaneously covering him in a protective shadow.

And as much as Barbara was his moon, Kori was his sun. She burned away every possibility until only one path remained on which he could walk. At the same time, her light also burned away every lie he told himself or mask he wore, so that he was left with nothing but the burnished truth of what he was.

Joey was the millions of stars that couldn’t be seen in Gotham’s night haze, or that were outshone by the brilliant light of day. Endless possibilities, endless choices, endless potential to build and create.

It seemed fitting that out of the three of them, Joey was the one who made him stop when no one else in existence could. Joey, who everyday defied what was expected of him by every person around him. Joey, who, though mute, communicated more gracefully than many who had dedicated their lives to speaking. Joey, whose story was one of eternal defiance, of being more than what his family and life dictated he be.

The way he braided together crowns of flowers, and the way he painted every little thing he loved and dreamed of. Maybe that was what it was that made Dick stop. 

Joey lived for himself alone, unapologetically. He was exactly who Dick had always aspired to be, who Dick had always been told he was. 

Many believed that Dick lived with abandon because he was constantly on the move. And maybe they were right, maybe he was embracing life head first. But he felt that it was Joey, with the gentleness of his hands as he comforted a friend, those same hands that could deal deadly blows. Where his hands had been made for war, and then the sign of old injury and hurt, he used them to deftly stretch canvas and coax music from its shell.

And Dick loved him. He loved to talk to him until he had nothing left to say. He loved to perform for him, showing off during training and in the field. He loved to accompany him and his guitar. But, perhaps most of all, Dick loved to sit with him, and be completely still.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm open to feedback, prompts, or suggestions of any kind! This is supposed to be a learning experience for me.


End file.
